His Own Private Island, Revisited
by Luke Skywaxer
Summary: Gilligan has special powers. X-over story with the novel and recent movie, JUMPER. This takes place chronologically before my first version of His Own Private Island.
1. Dots and Lines

_This fan fiction is based on a crossover idea between the television show, __Gilligan's Island__ and the movie __Jumper__, as well as the novel with that title by Steven Gould (1992). This takes place before my original version of His Own Private Island, which I wrote on a whim. Be kind._

**His Own Private Island, Revisited**

_**Dots and Lines**_

Gilligan turned from the door of the hut, assured that Skipper had not stirred. It was night and the blue hue of darkness always made the island look so beautiful. This was his island, after all, his own secret treasure. It contained the best of all worlds, at least as far as he was concerned, a tiny microcosm of the world and life. The other castaways may not have agreed with him. But then they didn't know about his "other" secret, either. They all took him for an idiot. Little did they know.

He stayed there in the shadows under the awning of the hut for a few more seconds, making sure no one else was about. And then…he jumped.

Clear from his grass hut on the island that he and the others had been stranded on for so many years, he jumped. All the way to the Big Apple. New York City. It took no time at all, a feat that always left him amazed. The anomaly of his own mind was incredible the way it could bend space-time just by his wishing to be someplace else.

One second ago he had been a castaway on a deserted island sharing breathing rights with six other people, and now he stepped out of the shadows of an alleyway and into the busy nightlife of Time Square. Hundreds of people swarmed about him, shopping, laughing, having a good time. But Gilligan did not suffer any culture shock. He had done this before.

The skinny man in the white pants and long sleeved orange shirt tugged self-consciously at his white sailor cap. He knew he looked out of place in the midst of the leather coats and expensive watches. But no one seemed to notice him. The nice thing about New York City was that people hardly ever made eye contact with you. If they did, it was an accident and they quickly looked away. They didn't want trouble. They had their own lives to attend to.

Gilligan looked around and saw a store that sold clothing. His practice was fairly consistent. Go to an expensive store, buy some nice clothes. Change, and then jump again to wherever he felt like going. He glanced around, making sure no one was watching, which, as he always discovered, was much easier than one might guess. People just didn't believe their eyes, even if they were looking at you. And if they did see you disappear all of a sudden or reappear somewhere else, they would go around the rest of their lives telling everyone how they had seen, either: A.) a ghost, or, B.) an angel. Of course, if you came up to them and stole their money right in front of them or zipped off with their car into nothingness, then…well, then they called the police. However, even in that case, he again knew he was safe. He knew of several people now locked away in asylums because their brains just couldn't invent an explanation for themselves to believe. It was always much better for them if they were doubters. It was safer. And most people seemed defensively to understand this and to doubt their own senses.

Backing again into the shadows, he jumped across the street and into the men's clothing section of the store. He was surprised to see that the clerks were already beginning to shut things down for the night. New York was behind Island time, so although it was dark outside here, the evening was still young. He had hoped to get some service in trying on some new threads. But one of the young Asian women saw him and began scolding, coming toward him through the slacks and neckties.

"You. You not allowed in here now. We closed for the day. You go now. Come again tomorrow."

He watched her come and noticed she was kind of cute. She took him by the hand and began leading him to the front door. He followed, embarrassed, and studying her long black hair, her head bobbing in front of him to the door. A look of surprise showed on her face when they got to it and she discovered that the shop door had already been locked. She turned to him, studying his face.

"How you get in here? Door is locked. Huh? How?"

"Oh," said Gilligan, again embarrassed and not sure what to say. "I didn't use that door." It was the truth. He hadn't. "But look, all I want is a good change of clothing. I've got extra money…" He took a wad of one hundred dollar bills from his pocket and showed it to her.

The girl seemed to relax a little when she saw the money. He wasn't here to rob them. _So, my clothing does form people's first impression of me_. Gilligan took her hand and pressed the roll of bills into it. "Just help me into some decent threads, Baby, and I'll get out of here. I'm not too picky." He led her back to the racks. "You help me pick."

The Asian girl went around and got a measuring tape from a jacket hanging on a hook by the rear door. Someone called out in Chinese from the back room and she chattered something in reply. A man's face appeared in the doorway, looking bewildered at Gilligan. Finally, he shouted briefly and stormed away.

The girl smiled at Gilligan. "He say he lock door. Silly old guy. He forget sometime, and blame me or Fang."

"Fang?" asked Gilligan. He lifted his arms and let her take his measurements.

"Fang – sister . We work here for uncle."

Gilligan cleared his throat. He never knew how to talk to pretty girls, but this one was a little easier because she was warming up to him. Maybe it was his money. Yeah, that figured. "Hey," he said, "if you are off work now, would you like to go see a play or something with me?"

"On Broadway?" The girl beamed at him.

When they had decked him out in the best duds the shop could offer he took the girl—LeAnn, she called herself—outside and waited for her to lock the outer fence. He helped her draw the metal curtain down over the entire face of the shop. Then they caught a cab and went to see a play.

It was nice sitting next to LeAnn. He finally got the nerve to whisper a few questions to her. She told him they were from China. Her name had been Americanized from Lian, which meant "connection," like a train on a continual track.

That surprised Gilligan. If anything, his life was in complete contrast to the meaning of her name. He always jumped from one place to another with little thought given to the spaces between. Maybe it was those spaces between that connected people to each other. Ever since he had discovered his gift for teleporting, his life had taken on a completely chaotic pattern. Her answer gave him some time to think about things and he was quiet through the rest of the play.

When they were done, he asked if she wanted to go home yet. Well, no, not really, was the answer. And, what did he have in mind. Oh, oh. That was the hard part for the boy. What did he have in mind? Let's see. Um… Gilligan was drawing a blank as usual. Finally he asked her to give him a suggestion or two.

"Well, how much money you got?"

"Enough."

She grinned, her perfect Asian smile making him feel like a million bucks instead of just the twenty grand he had sewn into his underwear. "Take me somewhere exciting, like…" she thought for a moment, "No, it too late. Closed now."

"No really, where?" he wanted to know.

"I always want to climb Miss Liberty and look out her torch, but it alway too late and I work every day."

"Shoot," said Gilligan, waving a cab driver on. He had been thinking some more about how this girl was connected to everything through a painful series of events. A "continuum." It was a word the Professor had taught him. It meant that everything was linked. Maybe they could help one another. "I'll take you there right now," he said.

He took her by the hand and led her down the street. She smiled up at him, her face a question mark. He patted her on the nose. He didn't like those squiggly punctuation things if they didn't have their dots. He had to laugh at his own private joke.

LeAnn was a fine line, even if a squiggly one. Himself? He was a series of random dots all needing a connection. The two of them needed each other, like peanut butter needs jelly. It was plain to him, but would she understand? He tried to explain, to tell her about his gift and his problems, but her face only got more squiggly. Finally he told her, "Just hold your breath, and I'll show ya."

They jumped.


	2. Needle Leads Thread

**A/N: **_Thanks for the review and your thoughts, GI Fan, though I wish you'd sign in so I could visit and comment on what you write as well. _

_**Needle Leads Thread**_

He had to catch her from fainting right off the spiky hair of the statue of Liberty. The sudden loss of pressure on the ear drum was excruciating at first. He had forgotten about wearing ear plugs. But it was too late for second thoughts now. The pain would pass eventually.

Since he'd never thought of going to the torch on his own before, he couldn't just take her straight there. It wouldn't be safe, landing where you weren't sure there was room for you. The top of the crown had looked a little more secure as a starting point. From there he could see into the torch. "Hold on," he said again, gripping her hand tightly. They jumped inside the torch.

"Where are we?" cried LeAnn. "What happened to street?"

Hmmm, by her reaction, Gilligan suddenly realized he had made a dumb move. This girl was really scared. If she was going to help him he would need her rooted in the right frame of mind.

"I don't know," he found himself shouting, "Maybe we accidentally tripped and landed up here on the statue of Liberty!" He pretended to be as confused as she was. "Oh, whatever will become of us?" he bewailed.

Gilligan knew only one thing about women. Or at least he thought he knew. It supposedly went for one woman or ten. All women. That was, if they were scared and you took charge, they would scrutinize every single thing you did, trying to be sure you really knew what you were doing or talking about. It took a lot to convince a woman you were worthy of her trust, much less her admiration. And that whole process was a difficult one for him. It just made him more nervous when someone was watching him. But, on the other hand... Sure a woman might turn to jelly in a sudden crisis at first; however, if you didn't appear to have an immediate solution, she would get herself back together.

Gilligan nodded to himself. If he appeared more at his wit's end than LeAnn was, then she would take charge and somehow manage to get them both out of the danger zone. It was an "axiom" of womanology. He had learned those words from a discussion overheard between the Professor and Mr. Howell. A boy could learn a lot from the people on the island, that was for sure.

"Oh my word!" screamed LeAnn. She was pointing down at the city far below them. "We in Miss Liberty's torch!"

"Oh my word, too! You're right! Oh heavens!" screamed Gilligan. He melted to the floor and waited. _Give it time. Give it time,_ he thought.

There was silence for a little bit and so Gilligan decided to nurse it along. He started sobbing and moaning. "Oh what shall we do? Oh whatever shall we do?"

He had his eyes closed. Suddenly a sharp, pointed little shoe came out of the darkness and landed on his shin. "Ouch!" he said, rubbing his leg and scowling. LeAnn had gotten herself together.

"No time for crying!" she said, pushing the hair from her eyes. She wrung her hands a little bit as she glanced around them, taking in their surroundings.

This was good, she was going through necessary steps to develop a plan of action. First thing was to inventory resources and the situation. Gilligan watched her and thought he should be taking notes. This is what a person does who is connected. In a crisis, they look for something familiar. They connect. They act.

She spied the door.


	3. Strings Attached

_**Strings Attached**_

LeAnn had led Gilligan down a thousand flights of stairs, or so it felt. He heaved and panted as they broke from the final door at the base of the statue of Liberty. He caught the girl's arm and motioned for her to stop.

"I'm…" he panted and held a finger up, "I'm a little…out of shape."

"You ever were in shape?" she asked. He ignored the insult.

They had made it from the torch all the way to the bottom and somewhere in the hustle and bustle of salvation, the initial panic had ebbed away from LeAnn. It was gone from her. She now gazed up at the statue, stumbling backward from the soaring greatness of it.

Gilligan followed her slowly, watching. He wondered if he should just take her home and forget the whole thing. _I don't know why I thought she would be different_.

Suddenly the girl broke into a smile. She said, "I don't know how we get here, but she beautiful." Her slender arm and delicate forefinger extended toward the towering copper woman above them. She traced the elegant shape with her finger.

Gilligan was silent.

LeAnn turned to him and her smile faded. Despite his best attempt, the boy was wearing his guilty expression. "You did this," LeAnn said, her eyes narrowing a bit. "You say something. You say, 'hang on,' and then we up there." Her finger stiffened at the green giantess above.

Gilligan avoided her eyes. He hadn't counted on her being so smart. At first he had thought he could just tell her everything. Anything. English wasn't her first language, so if he said something she didn't like he could always just blame it on the language barrier. But now he wasn't sure he wanted to share. She wouldn't understand, which was funny since that had been the point in the first place. The irony of it made him shake his head. He needed a girl who would understand, not just someone to talk to.

"Look, Sweetheart," he finally said. "It was a mistake, okay? I thought you could help me. I thought we could help each other. And maybe we did."

The girl just looked at him, her face beginning to get squiggly again.

"You," said Gilligan, "wanted to see the statue from the top. I needed someone to talk to and learn from."

"What you mean?" The girl's tone was softer than before all of a sudden. It had lost some of its accusation. She moved a little closer to him. He noticed that her eyes were fixed on his for the first time that evening. He could tell she was no longer intent on just his money.

He let her come closer. "Are you sure you want to know?"

She just nodded her head and then studied him from top to bottom. He suddenly became aware again that he was still wearing the nice clothes. After years on that island and wearing the same tired outfit, the suit felt like a shell of new life for him. It gave him energy. Confidence surged through him as LeAnn slid her fingers into his.

"Alright," he let out a sigh. He would give it a try. "I'm a jumper. I can teleport." He reached down and dotted her little button nose with his thumb. Her squiggles straightened out a little. "That means I can move from one place to another just by wanting to."

Her expression wasn't changing enough. _She doesn't understand._ _Okay, try something else, a new tack._ Suddenly he jumped them both over toward the statue again for demonstration. They landed near some bushes and he had to catch her from swooning. "I can move other people and things around with me," he said.

"That make me feel sick."

"Sorry." He dusted her off. "You get used to it."

She just looked at him and he couldn't tell what she was thinking. Finally she said, "You seem more smart than up in statue. How come?"

Gilligan looked at his wing tips and shrugged. "I'm also a good actor," he admitted. "It is a defense mechanism. Just like everything else. I act stupid so people won't choose me for president or anything else I don't want."

She laughed and he smiled. The girl had a nice sounding voice, like a bell. It made him feel better to hear her laugh.

"So," she said, "you escape artist." She poked him in the ribs with her finger. "I bet you never stay in one place long enough to find anyone special."

"That isn't really true," said Gilligan, "I have lived on a deserted island with six other people for quite a few years now. I learn from them about life and the world."

"Sound boring," said LeAnn. He felt the urge to convince her.

"It isn't. When I discovered my special talent, I started bringing visitors to the island to kind of shake things up a bit every now and then. And let me tell you, it takes a lot of creativity to do that without getting discovered."

"Maybe you bring me to your island," said LeAnn. She was looking up into his eyes and he suddenly wanted to kiss her.

Now that was a strange feeling for him to be having right now. What was coming over him? The girl seemed to be exerting some strange emotional power and he suddenly recognized it for the first time. At any other moment, any other time, he would have been running for his life to get away from a girl who was this close to him. But…for some reason now it didn't feel uncomfortable.

"Hey!" he almost shouted, stepping away from her. "What are you doing to me, anyway?"

Her face took on a pleading expression for a moment and then suddenly her eyes widened at him. "Gilligan," she said, "You want kiss me, don't you?"

A warm, mushy fuzziness enveloped him. It was like a drug washing over him, and he began feeling like moving closer to the girl. Somewhere in the haze of his mind a single, lonely thought came echoing up to his reason, _"Get out while you still can. Don't hide it, she already knows you can jump. Just go!" _Gilligan forced himself away from her and concentrated on the island.

Suddenly he was back in front of the grass hut, crouching in the shadows. The motor-like drone of Skipper's snoring came through the wall and comforted him. Gilligan teetered, leaned against the bamboo frame, and slid to his butt in the sand.

Something moved in the darkness near him.

"This your island?" asked a familiar female voice beside him. Gilligan nearly jumped right out of his skin. Almost literally.


	4. It Knot Funny

**It Knot Funny**

Since New York City and the Island were both near sea level he never worried too much about his ears popping from the changes in altitude, but the effect of a jump was still always a bit disorienting whenever he did it in escape mode. It was like his body wasn't really ready for the sudden changes when he was panicked. Gilligan staggered to his feet in dismay and squinted into the bluish-blackness.

The girl came out of the shadows, smiling. "It feel weird, but you right, I get used to it."

"What are you doing here?" hissed the boy. "I didn't mean for you to come."

"You sure?" she started looking around and walking through the sand toward the center of the camp.

"Hey!" said Gilligan, following her. His wing tipped shoes sliced into the sand, plunging in differently than his sneakers ever did, and he remembered he'd forgotten about getting his clothes. Where had he left them? Oh yeah, the changing room at her store. He would have to take her back and get those clothes before anyone else woke up.

The moon was shining fairly bright and his eyes were already adapted to the darkness from being near the statue of Liberty only a few seconds before. Gilligan tried jogging to catch the girl, but she had covered a lot of ground quickly. He gave up and just jumped to reach her.

"Let go," she said, turning to him. He suddenly wanted to release her, not harm her. What was she doing to him? He dropped his hand away from her shoulder.

"Well, I can't leave you here like this. It won't fit. This isn't the way I do things!" Gilligan could feel the upset rising from his stomach into his muscles. "I have to bring you back to your home."

"I just get here," said LeAnn. She moved away and he followed. "I want look around." She gave him an impish smile and he suddenly realized she was just having some fun with him. The bad feelings instantly ebbed away. It was weird.

They walked to the lagoon and then out beyond the palms to the shoreline. Gilligan couldn't believe himself when he reached for LeAnn's hand and held onto her in the moonlight.

"I don't know what you've got," he said, looking into her dark eyes, "but it is powerful."

"Since you tell me secret, I tell you mine." LeAnn looked out at the water, the waves rolling in one after the other. "I read book once that teach suggestion. Sometime even connected people have to escape, you know?"

He didn't know what she was talking about at first. "What?" he asked.

"Mind control, you know?"

"No. You mean that's what you are doing to me? Making me feel all mooshy gooshy?"

"All lovey-dovey." She smiled and laughed.

He stared at her for a while. "You know I have to bring you home, right? I have to get my clothes. I can't let the others find us out here."

"You can only jump where and when I let you." LeAnn's words sliced into him and he knew they were true. He was under her power somehow. But the panic he felt was quickly smothered by soft thoughts of desire for her.

"Why are you doing this to me?" said Gilligan, holding her around her waist.

"Because it funny and I can." She licked her lips and looked up into his eyes.

"It's mean."

"No, funny."

"I'm…" said Gilligan, and he drew down upon her, kissing her lips, "not…" he kissed her again, "…laughing."


	5. Stitches with Hitches

**Stitches with Hitches**

It had been a very long night. LeAnn finally had let him take her home. "On one condition," she had said. "You come back, visit me tomorrow night."

He had jumped her back to the shop, caught a cab for her out front, then jumped in and got his change of Island clothes. He deposited the used duds and wing tips at the Salvation Army donation drop-off, and then jumped for home.

_Any other lifetime, any other personality, _he thought to himself as he straightened his sailor hat outside the hut. He just couldn't handle the kind of stress he had brought on himself this night. He already knew he wouldn't be going back to see LeAnn tomorrow. _Not unless she's put a spell on me or something._ That was a sobering thought. He was going to have to be on his guard against any funny emotions for a while.

Wearily, Gilligan peered through the bamboo walls to check on Skipper. The large man was still lying in the hammock but he was breathing easily. Gilligan couldn't tell if he was asleep or not. Better not chance it. He pushed the swinging door open and tiptoed in and back to the hammock.

"Gilligan?"

It was Skipper.

"Yeah?"

"You were gone for a while. I was getting worried, Little Buddy."

"I couldn't sleep," said Gilligan truthfully. He had been learning that the truth was always easier than making something up. "I went for a long walk and now I'm exhausted."

The sun was just beginning to rise on the island. Gilligan's eyes felt heavy. He wondered if he could climb back into the hammock without spilling out or upsetting the Skipper.

"Here let me help you," said Skipper.

"No, I can do it myself."

"You're stepping on my head."

"Oh sorrreeeeee—Oh oops!" Gilligan slipped and tried catching himself with the upper hammock. His feet pushed hard against the lower man's shoulder and suddenly there was a whirring of braided rope and bodies which ended with them both laying on the ground, wrapped in the hammock.

"Uh…Gilligan…" said Skipper.

"Yes, Skipper?"

"You've done it again."

They untangled themselves and Skipper picked Gilligan up and tossed him into the upper hammock. "Now stay put."

The bigger man's gruffness was always a disguise, thought Gilligan_. Something he does to hide his easy going nature._ Gilligan lay there in his hammock and thought about it before falling asleep. Skipper was, in a way, a connection for him. Not like LeAnn. She was more of a parasite. A beautiful one, but a parasite nonetheless, which had attached itself to his emotions. _Too quickly. Much, much too quickly._ Perhaps he didn't need to be jumping all over the world, grasping for connections. There were six wonderful connections to be maintained right here on this little island. And he belonged here as much as any of them did. Right here on his own private island.

Although, when he thought about it, the mind control thing did have some possibilities for gags. _Hmmm._ He wondered if he could locate that book LeAnn had talked about. Maybe he would return to New York tomorrow night after all. _It might be fun… _


End file.
